CHAPTER XII
THE ONE WHO ARRIVED
Henry Ware, when his last comrade, hurt and spent, drifted away in thedarkness, felt that he was alone in every sense of the word. But thefeeling of failure was only momentary. He was unhurt, and the good Godhad not given him great strength for nothing. He still held the rifle inhis left hand above his head and swam with the wide circular sweep ofhis right arm. The yellow waves of the Ohio surged about him and soon heheard the nasty little spit, spit of bullets upon the water near hishead and shoulders. The warriors were firing at him as he swam, but thekindly dusk was still his friend, protecting him from their aim.
He would have dived, swimming under water as long as his lungs wouldhold air. But he did not dare to wet his precious rifle and ammunition,which he might need the very moment he reached the other shore--if hereached it.
He heard the warriors shooting, and then came the faint sound ofsplashes as a half dozen leaped into the water to pursue him. Henrychanged the rifle alternately from hand to hand in order to resthimself, and continued in a slanting course across the river, drifting alittle with the current. He did not greatly fear the swimmers behindhim. One could not attack well in the water, and they were likely,moreover, to lose him in the darkness, which was now heavy, veilingeither shore from him. Had it not been for the rifle it would have beenan easy matter to evade pursuit. Swimming with one arm was a difficultthing to do, no matter how strong and skillful one might be. But thepursuing warriors, who would certainly carry weapons, suffered from thesame disadvantage. He heard another faint report, seeming to come fromsome point miles away, and a bullet struck the water near him, dashingfoam in his eyes. It was fired from the bank, but it was the last fromthat point. He was so far out in the river now that his head becameinvisible from the shore, and he was helped, also, by the wind, whichcaused one wave to chase another over the surface of the river.
Henry was now about the middle of the stream, here perhaps half a milein width, and he paused, except for the drifting of the current, andrested upon arm and shoulder. He looked up. The sky was still darkening,and only a faint silvery mist showed where the moon was poised. Then helooked toward either shore. Both were merely darker walls in the generaldarkness. He did not see any of the heads of the swimming warriors onthe surface of the river, and he believed that they had lost him in theobscurity.
Refreshed by his floating rest of a minute or two, he turned once moretoward the Kentucky shore. It was an illusion, perhaps, but it seemed tohim that he had been lying at the bottom of a watery trough, and that hewas now ascending a sloping surface, broken by little, crumbling waves.
He swam slowly and as quietly as possible, taking care to make no splashthat might be heard, and he was beginning to believe that he was safe,when he saw a dark blot on the yellow stream. Far down was another suchblot, but fainter, and far up was its like.
They were Indian canoes, and the one before him contained but a singleoccupant. Henry surmised at once that they were sentinels sent there inadvance of the main force, and that the trained eyes of the warriors inthe canoes would pierce far in the darkness. It seemed that the way wasshut before him, and that he would surely be taken. He felt for aninstant or two a sensation of despair. If only the firm ground werebeneath his feet he could fight and win! But the watching warrior beforehim was seated safely in a canoe and could pick him off at ease.Undoubtedly the sentinels had been warned by the shots that a fugitivewas coming, and were ready.
But he was not yet beaten. He called once more upon that last reserve ofstrength and courage, and, as he floated upon his back, holding therifle just over him, he formed his plan. He must now be quick and strongin the water, and he could not be either if one hand was always devotedto the task of keeping the rifle dry. He must make the sacrifice, and hetied it to his back with a deerskin strap used for that purpose. Then,submerged to his mouth, he swam slowly toward the waiting canoe.
It was a tremendous relief to use both hands and arms for swimming, andfresh energy and hope flowed into every vein. It was a thing terrible inits delicacy and danger that he was trying to do, but he approached itwith a bold heart. He was absolutely noiseless. He made not a singlesplash that would attract attention, and he knew that he was not yetseen. But he could see the warrior, who was high enough above the waterto stand forth from it.
The man was a Wyandot, and to the swimming eyes, so close to the surfaceof the river, he seemed very formidable, a heavily-built man, naked tothe waist, with a thick scalp lock standing up almost straight, an alertface, and the strong curved nose so often a prominent feature of theIndian. One brown, powerful hand grasped a paddle, with an occasionalgentle movement of which he held the canoe stationary in the streamagainst the slow current. A rifle lay across his knees, and Henry knewthat tomahawk and knife were at his belt. He not only seemed to be, butwas a formidable foe.
Henry paused and sank a little deeper in the water, over his mouth, infact, breathing only through his nose. He saw that the warrior was wary.Some stray beams of moonlight fell upon the face and lighted up thefeatures more distinctly. It was distinctly the face of the savage, thehunter, a hunter of men. Henry marked the hooked nose, the cruel mouth,and the questing eyes seeking a victim.
He resumed his slow approach, coming nearer and yet nearer. He could notbe ten yards from the canoe now, and it was strange that the Indian didnot yet see him. His whole body grew cold, but whether from the watersof the river he did not know. Yet another yard, and he was still unseen.Still another yard, and then the questing eyes of the Wyandot rested onthe dark object that floated on the surface of the stream. He looked asecond time and knew that the head belonged to some fugitive whom hisbrethren pursued. Triumph, savage, unrelenting triumph filled the soulof the Wyandot. It had been his fortune to make the find, and the trophyof victory should be his. It never entered into his head that he shouldspare, and, putting the paddle in the boat, he raised the rifle from hisknees.
The Wyandot was amazed that the head, which rose only a little more thanhalf above the water, should continue to approach him and his rifle. Itcame on so silently and with so little sign of propelling power that hefelt a momentary thrill of superstition. Was it alive? Was it really ahuman head with human eyes looking into his own? Or was it some phantasythat Manitou had sent to bewilder him? He shook with cold, which was notthe cold of the water, but, quieting his nerves, raised his rifle andfired.
Henry had been calculating upon this effect. He believed that the nervesof the Wyandot were unsteady and, as he saw his finger press thetrigger, he shot forward and downward with all the impulse that strongarms and legs could give, the bullet striking spitefully upon the waterwhere he had been.
It was a great crisis, the kind that seems to tune the faculties of someto the highest pitch, and Henry's mind was never quicker. He calculatedthe length of his dive and came up with his lungs still half full ofair. But he came up, as he had intended, by the side of the canoe.
The Wyandot, angry at the dexterity of the trick played upon him, andknowing now that it was no phantasy of Manitou, but a dangerous humanbeing with whom he had to deal, was looking over the side of the canoe,tomahawk in hand, when the head came up on the other side. He whirledinstantly at the sound of splashing water and drew back to strike. But astrong arm shot up, clutched his, another seized him by the waist, andin a flash he was dragged into the river.
Henry and the warrior, struggling in the arms of each other, sank deepin the stream, but as they came up they broke loose as if by mutualconsent and floated apart. Henry's head struck lightly againstsomething, and the fierce cry of joy that comes to one who fights forhis life and who finds fortune kind, burst from him.
It was the canoe, still rocking violently, but not overturned. Hereached out his hand and grasped it. Then, with a quick, light movement,he drew himself on board.
The Wyandot was fifteen feet away, and once more their eyes met. But thepositions were reversed, and the soul of the Wyandot was full of shameand anger.
He dived as his foe had done, but he came up several feetaway from the canoe, and he saw the terrible youth with his own rifleheld by the barrel, ready to crush him with a single, deadly blow. TheWyandot perhaps was a fatalist and he resigned himself to the end. Helooked up while he awaited the blow that was to send him to anotherworld.
But Henry could not strike. The Indian was wholly helpless now and, hisfirst impulse gone, he dropped the rifle in the canoe, seized thepaddle, and with a mighty sweep sent the canoe shooting toward theKentucky shore. He had turned none too soon. Other canoes drawn by theshot were now coming from both north and south. The Wyandot turned andswam toward one of them, while Henry continued his flight.
Henry was so exultant that he laughed aloud. A few minutes before he hadbeen swimming for his life. Now he was in a canoe, and nothing but themost untoward accident could keep him from reaching the Kentucky shore.One or two shots were fired at long range from the pursuing canoes, butthe bullets did not come anywhere near him, and he replied with anironic shout.
The Wyandot's bullet pouch and powder horn, torn from him in thestruggle, were lying in the boat. Henry promptly seized them, andreloaded the Wyandot's rifle. Just as he finished the task his canoestruck against the shore, and, as he leaped out, he gave it a push withhis foot that sent it into the current. Then carrying the Indian's riflein addition to his own, strapped on his back, he darted into the woods.
Once more Henry Ware trod the soil of Kain-tuck-ee, and for an instantor two he did not think of his wounded or exhausted companions behind.Nature had been so kind to him in giving him great physical power, whichformed the basis of a sanguine character, that he always and quicklyforgot hardships and dangers passed and was ready to meet a newemergency. The muddy Ohio was flowing from him in plentiful rills, butone rifle was loaded, and he had of dry ammunition enough to serve.Moreover, his trifling wound was forgotten. His mind responded to histriumph, and, laughing a little, he shook his captured rifle gleefully.
He stopped three or four hundred yards from the river in a dense clumpof oak and elm and listened. He could hear no sound that betokened theapproach of the Indians, nor did he consider further pursuit likely.They would be too busy with their intended attack on Fort Prescott to besearching the woods in the night for a lone fugitive, who, moreover, hadshown a great capacity for escaping.
The night was dark and a cool wind was blowing. A less hardy body wouldhave been chilled by the immersion in the Ohio, but Henry did not feelit. He was now studying the country, half by observation and half byinstinct. It was hilly, as was natural along the course of the river,but the hills seemed to increase in height toward the north and east,that is, up the stream. It was reasonable to infer that Fort Prescottlay in that direction, as its builders would choose a high point for asite.
Henry began his advance, sure that the fort was not far away. The windrose, drying his yellow hair and blowing it about his face. Hisclothing, too, began to dry, but he was unconscious of it. The dusky skyserved him well. There were but few stars, and the moon was onlyhalf-hearted. Nevertheless, he kept well in the thickets, although heveered back toward the Ohio, and now and then he saw its broad surfaceturned from yellow to silver in the faint moonlight. He saw, also, twoor three dark spots near the shore, moving slowly, and he knew that theywere Indian canoes. Girty and his force were almost ready for the attackon the fort. A portion of the band was already crossing to the southernshore, and it was likely that the attack would be made from severalsides.
Henry increased his pace and came into a little clearing partly filledwith low stumps, while others that had either been partially burned ordragged out by the roots lay piled on one side. It looked like a poorlittle effort of man to struggle with the wilderness, and Henry smiledin the darkness. If this tiny spot were left alone, and it surely wouldbe if Fort Prescott fell, the forest would soon claim it again. But hewas glad to see it, because it was a sign that he was approaching thefort.
A little further on he came to a small field of Indian corn, the freshgreen blades shimmering in the moonlight and giving forth a pleasant,crooning sound as the wind blew gently upon them. Beyond, on the crestof the hill, he saw a dark line that was a palisade, and beyond that ablur that was roofs. This obviously was Fort Prescott, and Henryexamined it with the eye of a general.
The place was located well for defense, on the top of a bare hill, withthe forest nowhere nearer than two hundred yards and the underbrush cutcleanly away in order that it might afford no ambush. Henry judged thata spring, rising somewhere inside the palisade, flowed down to the Ohio.He had no fault to find with the place except that it was advanced toofar into the Indian country, but that single fault was most serious andmight prove fatal.
The fort seemed strong and well built and it was likely that one or twosentinels were on the watch, although he could not see from the outside.One of his hardest problems was now before him, how to enter the fortand give the warning without first being fired upon as an enemy. He hadno time to waste, and he decided upon the boldest course of all.
He drew all the air that he could into his lungs, and then, uttering apiercing shout, magnified both in loudness and effect by the quietnight, he rushed directly for the lowest point in the palisade. "Up!up!" he cried. "You are about to be attacked by the tribes! Up! Up! ifyou would save yourselves!"
Before he was half way to the palisade two heads looked over it, and themuzzles of two long rifles were thrust toward him.
"Don't shoot!" he cried. "I'm a friend and I bring warning! Don't yousee I'm white?"
It was hard in the darkness of night to see that one so brown as he waswhite, but the bearers of the rifles were impressed by his forciblewords and withdrew their weapons. Henry ran on, and, despite the burdenof his two rifles, seized the top of the parapet with his hands and in amoment was over. As he disappeared on the inside, a rifle shot was firedfrom some point behind, and a bullet whistled where he had been. Henryalighted upon his feet and found facing him two men in buckskin, riflein hand and ready for instant action. His single glance showed that theywere men of resolution, not awed either by his dramatic appearance orthe rifle shot fired with such evident hostile intent.
"Who are you?" asked one.
"My name is Henry Ware," replied Henry rapidly, "and I bring you wordthat you are about to be attacked by a great force of the allied tribesled by the famous chiefs, Timmendiquas, Yellow Panther, and Red Eagleand the renegades, Girty, Blackstaffe, Eliot, McKee, Quarles, andWyatt."
It was a terrible message that he delivered, but his tone was full oftruth, and both men paled under their tan. While Henry was speaking,lights were appearing in the log houses within the palisades, and othermen, drawn by the shot, were approaching. One, tall, well built, and ofmiddle age, was of military appearance, and Henry knew by the deferencepaid to him that he must be the chief man of the place.
"What is it?" he asked in a voice of much anxiety.
"The stranger brings news of an attack," replied one of the sentinels.
"Of an attack by whom?"
"By Indian warriors in great force," said Henry. "I've just escaped fromthem myself, and I know their plans. They are in the woods now beyondthe clearing."
"To the palisade, some of you," said the man sharply, "and see that youwatch well. I believe that this boy is telling the truth."
"I would not risk my life merely to tell you a falsehood," said Henryquietly.
"You do not look like one who would tell a falsehood for any purpose,"said the man.
He looked at Henry with admiration, and the boy's gaze met his squarely.Nor was it lacking in appreciation. Henry knew that the leader--for suchhe must be--was a man of fine type.
"My name is Braithwaite, Major Braithwaite," said the man, "and Ibelieve that I am, in some sort, the commander of the fort which I nowfear is planted too deep in the wilderness. I had experience with thesavages in the French war and I know how cunning and bold they are."
Henry learned later that he was from Delaware, that
he had earned therank of major in the great French and Indian war, and that he was braveand efficient. He had opposed the planting of the colony on the river,but, being out-voted, he had accepted the will of the majority.
Major Braithwaite acted with promptness. All the men and larger boyswere now coming forth from the houses, bringing their rifles, and as heassigned them to places the Indian war cry rose in the forest on threesides of the fort, and bullets pattered on the wooden palisade.